


Head Over Heart, Mind Over Matter

by princeconnor



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Dead Marco Bott, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Getting Back Together, I Tried, M/M, Slow Burn, endgame bc emily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeconnor/pseuds/princeconnor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jean and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water,<br/>Jean fell down and broke his crown,<br/>and secrets came tumbling after."</p><p>Jean Kirschtein lost his memory, short and sweet. Nothing that Armin Arlert needs to concern himself with. But when Jean goes around claiming they're dating? That is something he needs to fix. Pronto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impact

There is not a soul in town that doesn't remember the night Jean Kirschtein got the Saturday Night Lights knocked out of him. Besides the man himself, that is. 

Trost High School's championship game was one for the history books, the pressure to do well was massive, and to be honest, the opposing team was too. It was the Trost Titans versus the Great Plain Bisons. 

There were college scouts, too, looking for their next big shot. Everyone knew as soon they saw them, that Jean Kirschtein was playing his hardest tonight. If there's anything Jean had ever wanted, it was to go pro, and college football could get him there. 

The Titans and the Bisons were neck and neck, one more touchdown and the other team would be done for. 

Reiner Braun throws the ball to Connie Springer, who speeds down the field. Connie, pursued by Bisons much larger than him, makes the final pass to Jean Kirschtein who runs out in a full sprint, dodging every player. The crowd goes wild.

Jean Kirschtein was going to win the homecoming game by a touchdown. 

Crash.

Thud.

Boom.

Three large Bison players had piled themselves onto Jean Kirschtein. The other school broke out into hoots and hollers. However, as soon as the tremendous trio removed themselves from the Titans' star athlete, everyone fell silent. 

Jean Kirschtein was lying there, motionless. He would remain like that for the next ten minutes until he was placed into a stretcher, and for another twenty until he was carried into ambulance. 

Armin Arlert had half a mind to run over and see if he was okay. Eren Yeager had half a mind to make sure he wouldn't be. 

Jean Kirschtein, albeit unconscious, wasn't dead. 

His career, however, was gone the second he hit the ground.


	2. Paramnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eren and Armin actually bother to go to the hospital to visit Jean and ultimately regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just fucking take this

I walked through the halls of the Shiganshina hospital with an unease that permeated every inch of my body. The stark white walls, the linoleum floor, the typical grey and white of the hospital equipment. It was all far too familiar for me.

Hair tickled my soft jawline as visions of waiting rooms and hospital gowns and overly friendly doctors played on an endless loop in my head. Vivid memories of crashing waves, spinning concrete, and rushing clouds overhead channeled in and out like changing TV channels. My heart started pounding; it was the only thing I could hear. 

"Armin, slow down!" 

It was as if the TV had been shut off when I heard my best friend call out to me. He'd been struggling to catch up for who knows how long. 

Eren Yeager was of average height and an above average temper. His family was half Filipino and half German with a bit of Brazilian mixed in there. He was relatively thin, and muscular as well. His skin was on the darker side of olive, and his hair was deep brown and curled at the ends. He had a hard, heart shaped face with thin lips and a sloped nose. He had thick brows and soft cheeks. 

The most defining characteristic of Eren, however, was definitely his eyes. The deepest, most vibrant evergreen you'd ever seen, with flecks of gold and lighter green. Haunting when at rest, and terrifying when angered, Eren's eyes were something you never quite got used to. 

His eyes looked lighter under the fluorescent lighting as he approached me. 

I stopped, waiting for him to catch up."Sorry," I apologized, hardly registering what I was saying, "This place still bothers me."

I shivered as the cold seeped in through my plain blue hoodie and jeans. My skin was quickly covered in goosebumps. All I could hear was my heartbeat and my deep breaths. All I could feel was the cold causing my skin to prickle, my trembling fingers as blood rushed through them, and the hairs on the back of my neck. I only experienced the things that reassured me that I was alive. 

We turned the final corner to Jean's room. 

As we walked through the door, we were greeted with a few flowers as well as a single, half deflated and ironically depressing smiley face balloon. Also, an impressive heap of assorted cards and papers on the bedside counter. I had expected much more. 

I found it a bit odd, Jean was one of the most seemingly adored members of the student body. However, his apparent lack of gifts and the nurse's reaction to Jean having visitors said otherwise. Even the cards he was given weren't much, they were mostly written on poorly torn out pieces of binder paper.

Beside Jean's hospital bed, Reiner Braun was sat. 

"You shoved me into a locker for calling you a sponge? No?" Reiner asked, clearly exasperated. 

"Doesn't rub a bell."

"Ring a bell."

"If you insist-" Jean moved his hand toward the nurse call button, but Reiner covered his hand as if it were second nature. 

"Not," He sighed, "Literally." 

Jean looked over at the us and furrowed his brows in confusion. 

His eyes weren't angry, or hard as they often were. On a given day, he'd look like he was ready to pick a fight with the world. It's a look of determination, drive, rebellion, and pride. This was a much softer Jean; he almost seemed passive.

He didn't come across as too complete, not as put together as the Jean Kirschtein we all knew and- tolerated? Loved? Despised? It truly depended on the person you asked. No matter who you asked, however, would say that Jean Kirschtein looked like a mess.

This Jean Kirschtein had dark circles and bags under his eyes. This Jean had acne scars and chapped lips. This Jean had stubble and disheveled hair. Thai Jean Kirschtein had slightest scar on his forehead. This was not the Jean Kirschtein everyone had come to know. Was this the real him? Or simply a temporary persona?

It wasn't impossible that this was a completely different side of him. A dazed, broken side. Jean looked complete unable to process or react to whatever was happening at a given moment. 

Almost as if the blow he'd endured on the field had sent pieces of himself shattering in all directions. Something in his eyes gave an intimation that there was some sizable collateral damage that wasn't entirely physical. These shards of Jean Kirschtein were floating around the hospital room, left on the football field, stuck in the stretcher, and orbiting around him. I wondered if the pieces could be put back together to recreate what he once was, whatever it was. 

Whoever he was. 

"Who are they?"

Eren and I looked at each other. He was much worse than we'd thought.

"Guys, come closer so he can recognize you. His eyesight is shit."

We stepped closer to him, and he squinted at us. Less than gracefully, Jean felt for a small rectangular box that made a satisfying opening and closing sound. So satisfying in fact, he felt the need to open and close it two more times. 

Out came a pair of thin, black rectangular glasses with lenses so thick they made his eyes magnify a bit. Eren tried and failed to hold in his laughter. 

"Remember Eren, Jean?" 

"Of course. I wish I couldn't, though. He catapulted gelatin at me, the bastard." Jean's face grew cross. 

The War of the Blue Jell-O was quite a sight. Eren, with his impulsive tendencies and dislike of Jean, had shot gelatin cubes at his clean white shirt, hitting him square in the chest. Jean, with his short temper and dislike of Eren, started yelling. Eren started yelling back. The argument then escalated into a fist fight. I snapchatted it. Mikasa and two lunch duties broke it up. 

"That was like...three months ago."

"No, it was three weeks ago, stupid." Jean looked equal parts confused and annoyed. 

Reiner sighed, "So you do remember him, moving on. Jean, you remember Armin, right?"

"Yeah, of course." Jean grinned. I wasn't surprised, if he could remember Eren, he could remember me. 

"Yeah, I do. Armin's my boyfriend."

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and there was a knot in my throat. I could hardly bear it. I felt myself flush bright red, some part of me was screaming to run and hide. Instead, I decided to tense up, freezing in place. 

"I don't remember anything like that happening, Jean." I said, trying not to choke it out. 

"You do, or you should. I got you alone, and we started talking? Rub a bell?"

"Armin...what the hell is he talking about?" Eren said, looking a combination of confusion, disbelief, and disgust. It reminded me of when we were at a petting zoo and watched a cat give birth to six lovely kittens.

We later adopted one, which caused the same reaction. Her name was Belinda and she liked to bite. Well, she liked to bite Eren. 

"I already said, I don't know what he's talking about! He hit his head fairly hard, so why should we believe what he has to say?" I tried to lie as best as I could, and it seemed to convince Eren that I was clueless...just barely. 

I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I wasn't about to admit it. For starters, Jean got one insignificant, small, negligible detail wrong.

I was his boyfriend. Emphasis on the 'was' in that sentence. If Jean's memory only dates back to three weeks after the Jell-O incident, we had been dating for about two weeks. 

It didn't work out, and I decided it was time for us to go our separate ways. After a whirlwind romance of 6 weeks, I broke up with him. Exactly three weeks later, Jean would have his accident. 

"When did that happen?" Reiner said, looking between us. 

Jean looked at me quizzically and I looked down. This was the first time we'd made eyes contract in a while. There were fleeting seconds when we passed in the halls, or we both scanned the class at the exact same time. 

Slowly, almost as slow as the leaves change on trees between summer and fall, Jean's expression changed. His confusion had become realization and his realization became mortification. 

"Oh no, no no no no no." He mumbled to himself, allowing it to sink in. 

In that moment the only thing keeping me up was the smooth feeling on my hands on the edge of the hospital bed. Every inch of my body wanted me to collapse but I refused. 

Eren looked at me. "You're kidding me right, please tell this is some kind of fucking joke. Please tell me Ashton Kutcher is going to walk into this room any minute with cameras and shit." 

I gripped harder on the edge of the hospital bed. If I was going down, Jean was surely coming down with me. 

"Armin, is this a joke?" 

If I'm going down, he's going down with me. 

I open my mouth to speak, but Jean's voice interrupts me. 

"Not at all, Yeager." He said, grinning and looking Eren dead in the eye. Oh lord. 

Eren looked at me, expecting an explanation. 

"It's a...long story."

I ducked out of the room without another word.


	3. Bruce Lee, Bets, and Brain Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean tells his side of the story with a hazy sense of humor. 
> 
> Warning: injury talk, a couple death mentions in passing, coming out talk, idk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did really know where i was heading with this

If I had said I remembered much, or anything at all of the memories lost, I would be lying. The memory loss isn’t a burden now; It’s actually become a common story of mine. Back then, it was everything to me. 

It’s kinda funny, the present worries seem so massive at the time, you know? Like one day, you’re freaking out over a chemistry quiz only to have forgotten the first fifty elements of the periodic table afterwards. 

If you’re wondering, it’s hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, fluorine, neon, sodium, magnesium, aluminum, silicon, phosphorus, sulfur, chlorine, argon, potassium, calcium, scandium, titanium, vanadium, chromium, manganese, iron, cobalt, nickel, copper, zinc, gallium, germanium, arsenic, selenium, bromine, krypton, rubidium, strontium, yttrium, zirconium, niobium, molybdenum, technetium, ruthenium, rhodium, palladium, silver, cadmium, indium, and tin. 

I remember that, but god forbid I remember homecoming. Wonderful. 

I’m probably never gonna need that in my life, but hey, if I get kidnapped and the only way for my life to be spared is to recite the first fifty elements of the periodic table, I’m living. Then I will thank whatever god there is that I was an overachieving know-it-all in high school.

I have a vague idea of what went on in those months I lost, I mean, I got the highlights. I’m sure there were some important plans I made or something amongst that mess that no one else could tell me. 

The magnitude of the memory I’d lost was more or less obvious to me by the time I had woken up. I didn’t know where or was, and why I was there. I recognized the people around me, but they all seemed to know more than I did. 

At first I didn't remember anything, but over the next few days I quickly recovered my memory. 

“Where am I?” 

My mother muttered something about a hospital, and I understood what she meant but it didn’t sink in. It’s like when you listen to a song, a good song, and you have to listen to it over because you weren’t really listening to it. The words just passed over you, and not in the good way. 

Everyone’s words passed over me, but at least I was able to register what they were saying. It was like I was in a fishbowl, or maybe a bubble. Everything was hazy and confusing at first, a blur of words and faces. 

"Jean?" My mom said with her accent that made the n at the end of my name so soft it practically disappeared. 

"Oui?" 

"Someone wants to speak with you." 

Reiner "Boobies" Braun walked in. He was broad, blond, and fairly tall to say the least, with pecs that were large enough to be referred to as boobs. 

R: Hey Jean.

J: How's it going, Boobage?

R: Good, good, everyone misses you over there, you know. The team isn't the same without you.

I looked at the pathetic happy face balloon that I had, and I was not amused. 

J: I'm overwhelmed by their flood of sympathy and support.

R: Don't be like that, you've only been here a few days. When do you get out?

J: Tomorrow...or today. Maybe Thursday. I don't know. It might not be for a good while. 

R: I mean, it's just a concussion. 

I wish it was just a concussion. I mean, it was that by the time, but it was much worse, life threatening, actually. My brain started swelling, way more than the usual concussion, so they decided to drain fluid from my skull, so now I had a bald spot. I had a constant flow of fluid to make sure the blood was flowing through my brain, and an oxygen mask to do the same thing. 

I know it was a really close, close call. The doctors told my mom that they’d never seen someone this bad that wasn’t in a car accident. It was something about the way I landed, and the fact that it wasn’t just one impact, but three. If I hadn’t landed the way I had, he had said, it could’ve been worse, and he refused to elaborate on how much worse.

I didn’t think it could get worse than this. It was just football, you know? It’s all just fun and roughhousing and victory until a doctor has to drain fluid out of your skull.

I still wasn't able, or allowed, to walk, because my brain decided the basic leg movements area of itself should stop functioning temporarily. I was better than how I'd woken up originally, head pounding, vomiting, crying, dizzy, neck in agony, and hyperventilating. My mom told me I wouldn't stop saying the same things over and over. 

I had gotten used to the dull headache and vomiting by then. They were still taking me in for CT scans to make sure the swelling was going down and I wasn't bleeding from my brain. It sucked being in the hospital; Though, it was strangely familiar. 

J: Yeah. It was a bad one though, cut me open and stuff. 

R: Looks bad. 

J: Yeah, I could’ve died, honestly. But I didn’t, so I guess that’s...okay. 

R: We’re glad you didn’t. You had a rough fall, man. We thought you were dead.

J: I did too, at first.

R: Jean, what do you remember?

J: Nothing. 

J: The last thing I remember is the pep rally, the one with the freshman mascot who fell and his head came off?

R: Oh my god, Jean.

J: What?

R: That was August.

J: It’s not August? 

R: Jean, it’s November 5th.

J: What.

R: Do you remember homecoming? Remember student council elections? Anything after that?

J: I’m….not sure. No, I don’t. Why?

I felt sort of guilty, I mean, Reiner seemed to act like all of these things were of some kind of importance to me. Did I run for student office, did I help Marco in his campaign? Did I do something amazing or embarrassing at homecoming that I should remember? 

R: You’ve had such a great year so far, man, I can’t believe you don’t remember a thing. We’ve had such a great year so far. 

Right then, he said it with so much emotion for a good while I thought that maybe, just maybe I had a thing going on with him. I then proceeded to ask that question, in which he responded with a resounding:

R: God, no. Why would we? 

I’d been more than bit relieved. He was confused, and at the time I hadn’t realized why. Slowly, he started trying to piece those two months together to me, well, the parts that he could.

Any memories out of his knowledge were gone. I still kinda held on to some kind of hope that it would come back to me. That the things that other people couldn’t tell me, my thoughts, my ideas, everything that only I could ever know were going to come back. 

I hate to spoil anything, but they didn’t.

After Reiner had left, no one else came to see me. I was left to my own devices, aka my own weirdly disoriented thoughts and the smiley face balloon I nicknamed Bruce Lee. 

I was confused because wasn't I supposed to have a newfound respect of my life? Some kind of revelation of how life is precious? And an entire new perspective on things?

Weren't my teammates supposed to be rallying around me and supporting me just right now? 

Well, whether or not those things were supposed to happen, all I got was a scar and a bald spot, a broken wrist, bruised/fractured ribs, my mom, Reiner, and Bruce Lee. Remember the Titans had obviously made me expect way too much. 

The next day Reiner came back with half assed get well cards from school, half of which referred to me as John. I hope that wherever he is, John Kirschtein is feeling loved, because I sure wasn't. 

He continued to try (and ultimately fail) to jog my memory. We were in the middle of a odd discussion when he walked in. 

Armin Arlert, oh god, was I crazy for my (assumed) boyfriend Armin Arlert. He was wearing a blue hoodie that only made his eyes look bluer. The hospital lights didn't do much justice to his already pale face. 

Next to him, Eren Yeager, my rival since kindergarten when he squirted apple juice on my pants and told everyone I pissed myself. I cried. Let's just say, I was less than thrilled by his presence. 

Armin was acting odd, as if he didn't know me. He knew something I didn't. Maybe we weren't affectionate? Maybe it was because Eren was there?

Turns out, after some horribly revealing banter, no one knew I was gay. Or that Armin was gay. Or that Armin and I were gay together and I had just outed us. Whoops. 

Armin eventually darted out of the room. Eren followed, stating, "This isn't over." They never came back in, so I assumed it was over for the day. 

Reiner looked at me, surprised but grinning. I was scared, but instead I got defensive. 

J: What?

R: Nothing. 

J: Seriously, what?

R: You just made me very wealthy man, Jean Kirschtein. 

J: What's that supposed to mean, Braun?

R: Everyone on the football team owes me $5. 

J: You guys did not bet on this. 

R: Oh Jean, hate to break it to you, but we did, we very much did. 

J: I hate you guys so much. You're not telling them. 

R: I'll split the profits. 

J: You should exploit my perceived sexuality more often then. 

That is the story of how I outed myself and made exactly $22.50 off of it. 

However, that is only beginning of a much bigger story, a story that rocked my senior year. Remember when Eren said this wasn't over? Oh boy, was he right.


	4. Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its not about him, or Hanji, and it's most definitely not about the sirens in his head. It's about helping someone, he tells himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *updates literally a year later*

A month after the hospital visit, I made my way to the counseling office before my zero period calculus class and all I could hear was footsteps and wind. It was cold, I shivered and walked faster, I was never very tolerant of the cold.

As I sped past the blue and white lockers, then stopped at mine. I left my books, and tried to catch my breath; I was already panting. Somewhat intimidated by the distance I still had to walk, I looked in the direction of the office. I saw a tall figure with some tall crutches being guided by a certain Reiner Braun walk inside.

Alarms immediately started going off in my head. I knew exactly who it was.

Danger, Danger, ex-boyfriend in sight.

I considered walking away, telling my counselor that I couldn't make it. I had some studying to do, so I was in the library and forgot, that I slept in, for a moment I was finding every possible excuse for not showing up. It took me a moment to realize how irrational I was being. 

I took a deep breath before walking briskly toward the building, and managed to get there after yet another break. When it comes to my walking limitations, I enjoy the destination far more than the journey. 

I walk in, and a sweet woman at the front desk with a wide, gummy smile says Ms. Zoe was waiting for me. I go into her room.

Now, let me tell you something about Ms. Zoe. First of all, she's not Mrs. Zoe, she is Hanji and insists on being referred to as such. Second of all, she's a wonderful, dedicated, intelligent, understanding counselor...who's a little eccentric, but means. Third of all, she's a disaster, a complete mess of a person. That's why all of her students love her, she's relatable, she's about as out together as a high school student. 

I thought we were going to talk about colleges, about class rank, about anything besides what we actually did. However, when I saw Jean Kirschtein, or rather, what was left of him, sitting inside Hanji’s office, I knew it had something to do with him.

Red alert, Red alert. Ex in room, risk of exposure. This is not a drill, evacuate at once. Please exit in a calm and orderly fashion. I repeat, this is not a drill.

The last time I had ever mentioned Jean Kirschtein to Hanji as anything other than noticing him in passing or thinking he was paralyzed by three people in helmets I was crying. Crying because I was tired of disillusionment. Was Hanji the person I should have vented about my relationship to? Probably not, but she was the only one there.

But for whatever reason, she is not the only one in the room. Jean wouldn't stop looking at me, so I couldn't look at him. I missed the days when his face was cruel and his eyes were sharp. He wouldn't look at me then, not unless he had to. 

Now there were no more scowls, no cocky smirks or sneers, no fire, no fight. Just a tired, blank face and a beat up body. I glanced at him, finally, he grinned a little. He had puppy dog eyes, and they were directed straight me. I looked at Hanji.

“You wanted me to see you, Hanji?” 

She smiled. “That's right, Armin. You see, I have a little assignment for you. A challenge, a job, if you will.” 

Oh no. 

“You always talked about wanting to have more opportunities to tutor students, and I just got you a big one.” 

I immediately knew who she was referring to, I was just hoping it wouldn't be true. Everything within me wanted him to be here by coincidence. I looked at Jean, then back at her.

“I assume you mean Jean. I have to tutor Jean.” I didn't sound thrilled, I purposely didn't.

I felt bad for him, I did. I couldn't imagine what it was like to lose months of your memory, and I knew what it felt like to spend so long in the hospital. He had to make up a couple months of work that he no longer knows how to do, he lost his chance at going pro. I genuinely felt bad for him, everyone did. It still didn't make me want to be around him any more than before. 

“Yes, I mean Jean, because he's struggling. Recovering from his injury and missing so much school, combined with the long term effects, he needs as much help as he can get.”

That's when he finally spoke. It was slow, and he struggled a bit, like he was getting ahead of himself.

“That's why I asked...I asked for a tutor. This is taking a pretty big toll on me, and I really need help. I want to pass, babe.” 

I thought about not helping him, genuinely considered finding someone else. It's not because I didn't want to help, it was just a lot to ask of me, not to mention it was for him. I told myself it was not just about him, though. I was helping someone, that's all that mattered.

“I guess I’ll do it. I’ll tutor Jean.” 

Hanji was bursting with excitement, and she got this unsettling grin on her face. “That's great! Don't worry about doing it alone, though, he’ll also be working with teachers and another tutor to make sure he's where he needs to be. Thank you, Armin, thank you soooo much!” 

Jean was looking at me like I came from heaven above. He was grateful, it was written all over his face. I didn't want him to be.

Evacuate. Evacuate. Evacuate.

The bell rang, and I tried to leave as casually and quickly as humanly possible. I heard crutches frantically crutching behind me. The alarms sounded again.

Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me? Abort. Abort. Abort.

I was not going to try to outrun a concussed boy in crutches. I was not going to try to outrun a concussed boy in crutches. I was going to outwalk him. I would be lucky not to drop dead at the door.

“Armin, Armin, Armin! Slow down! I know you're avoiding me, but could you avoid me slower?” 

Do not pity him, do not pity him.

I gave in, because I was both out of breath and options. I would be forced to interact with him anyway, might as well get used to it. There was no use in avoiding Jean, well, whatever was left of him. There were pieces of him lying around, on the field, in the stretcher, in the ER, at the hospital, floating above his head. Maybe it was just all the bad pieces. 

“Thank you...Thank you so much.” He wouldn't have said that before, he wouldn't be so visibly grateful.

“It's no problem. I’m glad I could help. How are you, by the way?”

He smiled, “Yes- I mean, I’m getting there. I’m sorry about what happened, at the hospital.”

“It's fine, you didn't remember, you didn't know, it's fine. But, if you can help it, as a ground rule, we don't talk about it, or us. I want things to go back to normal for you, and when you got hurt, we weren’t talking. While not talking isn't an option, we aren't romantically involved anymore, understand?”

I didn’t mean to sound cold or cruel. I genuinely just wanted things to go back to before, or at least resemble his life before the accident. Letting him believe I still had feelings for him would have been far crueler than being honest with him about where we stood. 

“I understand. I’m sorry, I don't know what happened between us, but I’m sorry.”

He shouldn't be sorry if he can't remember it. “I am too.” 

“Well, have fun in Calculus, Armin. Later, babe.” He kissed me on the cheek. My face and neck grew hot.

Preparing self destruct in 5.

I pushed him gently, and it dawned on him. He flushed. 

“I’m...so, sorry, I forgot,” he said.

4.

“It's fine. Make sure it doesn't happen again.” 

“I’ll try.” 

3.

“Alright, well, I’ll see you around, Jean.” 

“Yeah. Hey, how about I come over today and we can get started?” 

2.

“That's fine, we can discuss what you need to work on.”

“Yeah, we can. Thank you, Armin. Thank you. Later.

1.

“Bye.”

0\. 

I stepped inside right before the bell rang. I kept thinking about how he looked at me. Jean Kirschtein looked at me differently nowadays. He looked at me like before. I don't mean just before the accident, before Before.

Jean Kirschtein looked at me like I was the sun when he was supposed to look at me like just another star in the sky. I was the sun and I never set for him. 

I was the sun, and I felt sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i'll try to update more i promise


	5. Humpty Dumpty, Help, and Heavenly Beings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's struggling with a lot of things for the first time. However, these feelings? Nothing new.

There’s something exhausting about living your life after an accident. You crutch around with all your own personal emotional baggage about what happened and then everyone else tries to put in their two cents. You're already struggling to keep yourself upright and the weight of all the pennies are starting to wear you down.

I remember I couldn't stand the way people looked at me, I felt like a walking ASPCA commercial. Sarah McLachlan was following me around everywhere she went holding a basset hound puppy.

I crutched around school having to deal with everyone's eyes on me. In class, I had to deal with people watching me struggle to take notes in class, or laboring to read a paragraph. 

Before the accident, I never let people see me struggle but it got to the point where it was all I did. I didn't want to let this define me, I wasn't suddenly a byproduct of the accident. I was trying to go back into what I considered normality before anyone else thought I was ready to.

I was pretty sick of thinking about it, talking about it, hearing about it. On one hand, pity suffocated me. On the other hand, people's cruel jokes and less than flattering nicknames sickened me. 

Looking back on it, their creativity in these insults were impressive. Sure, there were the classic insults, and some slurs, but eventually you got creative ones such as my personal favorite, “Connect Four”. Sadly, I had already been branded Humpty Dumpty by the time this gem came around.

Armin Arlert was never easily frustrated or discouraged. He just happened to tutor a famously impatient guy who was in no mood to persevere. I was also his ex, which probably made him want to be there even less. I appreciated his tolerance more than he could ever know.

Imagine two bulls tied together, one charging toward green pastures the other charging towards a cliff. 

A: Don't give up, Jean. Read it over a couple times if you have to, just don't quit because you'll get it eventually.

I tried, over and over. Eventually I’d read it so many times I wanted to scream.

J: I can't do it. I keep trying to read it but my break- my brain, is making it really...really hard.

A: What's giving you trouble?

J: I keep forgetting what it's about, and I’m having trouble with most of the words.

Armin looked really flustered. He bit his lip and did his thinking face, which I found really cute. Was I allowed to voice that thought? No. Did I want with every fiber of my being to? Yes.

He sat like that a long, long time. It was probably only a couple minutes but two minutes feels a lot longer when it's spent in silence. I jumped when he spoke.

A: I got it! Read it out loud to me, just try it a couple times.

Cue me uneasily trying to read the words one by one. I didn't want him to hear my stumble or struggle. Reading wasn't my favorite thing before, the accident had added on two more sucky layers to a sucky lasagna. 

Armin kept watching me, and I was glad. It only took two sessions for him to finally stand to look at me. It definitely made me wonder what I’d done so wrong. 

But he wasn't just watching, he was studying me. It felt like I was under a microscope and he was watching every word I said.

A: Keep going, you're doing well.

J: No, and I’m not doing well. You know what I’m doing? I’m reading something I just read five times out loud and I still don't really get it.

A: Jean, you suffered a brain injury and it's been affecting the way your brain works, it's affected how you work. Now that's a shame. You're still you, though, and that means you're an asshole, however-

J: Thanks.

A: You didn't let me finish. However, you're still a smartass that likes to show off and brag about his accomplishments. 

J: Still not seeing the positive here.

A: The positive is, you're still that guy and this is the perfect opportunity to show everyone that. Once you figure out how to work through all this shit, you'll be able to brag to everyone about that accomplishment. 

J: This isn't an accomplishment!

A: Jean-

J: This isn't an-

A: Stop interrupting me.

Have you ever seen an angel that wanted to beat the shit out of you? I have. It was terrifying and frankly, kinda hot. But seeing as he looked like he was ready to drag me down to hell before having a tea party with Jesus, I decided against saying it.

A: You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself. Wallowing in your self pity is completely justified, most people wouldn't blame you. You don't want to be like that forever, do you? Because I won't waste time on someone who does.

J: No.

A: Good. I can't deal with your negativity right now. Don't let people throw you a pity party and don't throw one for yourself. You can come back from this like nothing ever happened, and that's going to be an accomplishment. You can be great again.

I looked at him a certain way and he made the same disgusted face. 

A: Poor word choice. What I’m trying to say is: keep trying or find another tutor. Pessimism isn't really my cup of tea, you know what is?

J: Earl Grey?

A: No, but good guess. 

We kept working on it, and slowly worked our way through the chapter. We got about halfway through when Armin finally stopped me.

A: Jean, there's another reason you're struggling so much. 

J: Like what?

I knew what. I just didn't want to admit it when tutoring first started, and I didn't want to admit it now. 

A: Jean, correct me if I’m wrong, but you're dyslexic. 

J: You're not wrong. 

He was completely calm, he looked at me blankly. He didn't look surprised, or even angry. His apparent indifference was refreshing. It was like he'd been waiting for me to say it.

A: Okay.

J: I know you're probably mad, and now probably can't tutor me.

A: No. I’m just wondering why you didn't tell me.

This is the moment where his level headedness started to freak me out. I had lied to him, he wasn't reacting negatively. 

J: Because you already have enough of my issues deal with, and I figured it wouldn't make much difference. Things were a bit frustrating before but I didn't think it would get so much harder.

A: You didn't have a brain injury before, though. Now you have to deal with having trouble understanding and remembering what you just read, reading slowly. It's a whole new ballgame.

He was right about that, it felt like instead of throwing a baseball at me they were pitching hornet’s nests.

A: I know what to do now.

J: Suddenly you have fool-proof plan on how to teach me? And all I had to tell you was that I’m dyslexic?

A: Not fool-proof, but close. Before I wasn't sure how to help you, but now I have a plan. We might have to tweak it a bit to take into account the other stuff, though. Still, it's a start.

J: How do you know it'll work? Have you tutored before?

A: No, but you're getting something even better. A plan based off personal experience, because who better to understand a student with dyslexia than another student with dyslexia?

Memory problem or not, I was surprised. Also really relieved. I was just having a flood emotions, whatever those were.

Humpty Dumpty may have had a great fall, but Armin Arlert wasn't all the King's horses and all the King’s men. The plan he had for me by the next session was absolutely beautiful.

When put to the test, it worked well together, we did better than before. While this plan required a very Sparknotes meets Martha I-taught-a-knitting-class-in-prison Stewart approach, with the trendy whiteboard calendar and sticky notes to prove it, it worked well. 

Every little victory, I wanted to to lean over and kiss Armin as a thank you. I couldn't do that, though. Every time I grabbed his hand he’d pull away, or called him a pet name, he'd tell me not to. Every time I’d ask about before he'd change the subject.

Whenever he laughed or smiled and his eyes would just fill with the most amazing light, and his cheeks would get pink, I’d get this feeling in my chest. 

It was like I was screaming. I was screaming internally.

I’m kidding, mostly. It was like I was melting and aching at the exact same time. I would get really warm and all I wanted to do was touch him. Not in that way, though, calm down.

Where'd I’d gone wrong, I didn't remember. I wanted to take it back, because losing Armin Arlert was definitely a mistake.

Our hands brushed on the race for the same pen.

Definitely a mistake.


End file.
